Elanor
by Siofra1
Summary: The story of how Elanor meets Fastred while on her first adventure, mixed in with a description of her relationship with her father... More to come. Please read and review!
1. Leaving Home

Author's Note: The title of this story if subject to change, since "Elanor" really isn't the world's most creative title. Heh. I usually name my stories after I write them, and since I obviously haven't finished yet (it does get more exciting, I promise) I don't have a title as of now. If you have a suggestion, let me know in a review. I like reviews. yes, precious.*coughs* Right then.. On with my story.  
  
  
  
The cart jolted suddenly, as though someone had bumped into it rather violently, and I heard voices from outside. My stomach tightened as I realized that they were leaving. I began to adjust my skirts in order to have a more comfortable journey, but I stopped as I heard my father's voice.  
  
"Well, off you go then," he said, his voice full of laughter. I could hear my brothers and sisters shouting their farewells from the house. It must have been a sight to see, thirteen small hobbits, all hanging out the windows of Bag End, waving furiously. "It's a shame Elanor missed you. I would think she would have wished to see you off." I winced as he said my name, already having second thoughts about my rash decision. I remained seated, however, with my ear pressed against the side of the wagon.  
  
"Oh, I am sure she has something important to do at the market," said Mr. Merry. "We will see her when we return."  
  
"She is probably meeting some handsome young hobbit-lad, if I know your daughter." I made at face at Mr. Pippin's comment, even though I knew he could not see me. "Elanor certainly has her share of suitors, doesn't she?"  
  
"Yes, she does." I could hear the smile in my father's voice. "Yes, she certainly does." There was a pause. "Well, go on then. You'll have to hurry if you're going to get there when you mean to." The cart jolted again as the drivers got into their seat.  
  
"Off we go!" Mr. Pippin cried, and I heard the reins snap. The cart moved forward slowly, and I could hear the crunching of pebbles in the dirt beneath the wheels. The fact that I was leaving my home and would likely not see it again for a long while hit me hard all of a sudden, and my eyes grew damp. I scrambled to the back of the wagon and fumbled at the doors. They were locked from the outside, of course, but the latch had been hastily made and I was able to open it quite a few inches before the doors held fast. Peering though the crack I had made in the wall, I struggled to catch a last glimpse of my father and was rewarded with the brief sight of his back as he turned to go back into the house. Then the cart rounded a corner and he was lost from sight.  
  
I let out a shaky sigh, and crawled slowly back to the seat I had made for myself among the baskets of clothes and the jugs of ale. My legs felt surprisingly rubbery, and I mentally berated myself. I had chosen to do this, hadn't I? Hadn't I been wishing for an adventure of my own ever since Mother and Father had taken me to Gondor that one time when I was in my tweens? Honestly, I was being a baby. Here I was, finally getting what I wanted most of all, and I was on the verge of tears. One would think that I would instead be thankful that Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin had stopped in as they had the night before. They went on journeys often enough, but they normally did not stop in at Bag End before doing so. I smiled a wobbly smile, thinking of the way I had eavesdropped on the conversation that had taken place between my father and the two of them. That had been when I had discovered the plans for my father's dear friends to travel to Gondor and Rohan to visit some old acquaintances living there.  
  
Thinking of my father made my stomach tighten unpleasantly once more. At the moment my family would be eating breakfast- sausages and some sort of bread this morning, if my nose had not been mistaken- but it would not be long before my father would rise from the table, praising the excellent meal, kiss Mother on the cheek, and head off to his study to work on his book, which he has been particularly busy with as of late. He would soon find the second note I had left for him, hidden among the many papers on his desk. I had meant for that letter to be found after I was long gone, which was why I had left another note in the center of the kitchen table which said that I had left early for the market. It pained me to imagine what my father's reaction would be. He would most likely be surprised, even shocked, that I would do such a thing. That would probably be followed by a disappointment in me, as well as a sadness that I had left without saying good-bye.  
  
My eyes were filling with tears again, and I knew that if I continued thinking this way they would spill over and I would begin to cry. To avoid that uncomfortable situation, I settled back against a large jug of ale- honestly, how much beer did these two need to bring with them? - and tried to fall asleep. 


	2. Memory: The Fight

Author's Note: Meh, I'm slow in updating. Well, here's more. *looks around hopefully for readers* Heh. And please trust me when I say it ought to get more interesting. Chapter one was just an intro. *grins winningly* Oh, I forgot I disclaimer in Chapter 1, and I'm too lazy to reload it, so.  
  
Disclaimer: I pretty much own no one, except for the odd character I make up for plot purposes, like Essie and Margaret in this chapter. Otherwise, everything is Tolkien's.  
  
  
  
I was surprised at how tired I was, although looking back I realized that I really had not gotten much sleep the night before, what with the eavesdropping, and the excitement, and waking up early to leave the notes and hide myself in the cart. As it was, as soon as I had found a spot to rest my head I began to doze. The jerking and bumping of the wagon prevented me from reaching actual sleep, but I did hover on the edge of it for a bit. While I was nodding off, I found myself remembering an instance that had occurred when I was younger.  
  
  
  
I had been walking to the post office with my friend Essie Goodbody. I was only nine at the time, and I recall being extremely proud that Father had trusted me enough to carry his letter all the way from Bag End to the post office, which was near the center of Hobbiton. It was rather warm outside, considering it was March, and Essie and I had taken off our cloaks and had them draped over our arms as we walked, talking excitedly. Essie was teasing me about a hobbit-lad, Will Bolger, who had reputedly been asking about me at school the week before.  
  
"He must like you, Elanor! Why else would he be asking after you?" Essie had been trying to convince me of this ever since we had passed the mill.  
  
I made a face. "He was probably only wondering why I was not at school. I do not miss school often." I had stayed home to help my mother take care of my brothers, who had all managed to get sick at once. They were a handful when they were healthy, and my mother needed all the help she could get when they were sick.  
  
Essie sighed despairingly, as though I was being quite stupid. "Yes, he may have been, but why would he ask if he did not have a reason? It makes sense. You are certainly pretty enough for it to make sense, Elanor." At the age of nine, the only logical reason (from out point of view, anyway) for a hobbit-lad to chase after a lass would be if he found her pretty.  
  
I found myself blushing. I had always been told I was pretty, by both my family and my friends, and I knew by now that they were correct in saying so. That did not mean I liked the situation. If the boys were to like me, I wanted it to be because they thought I was fun to be with, not because they thought I was nice-looking.  
  
"I don't care if I'm pretty enough. If he only likes me because of that, then I do not like him at all," I retorted with a toss of my head. A few old gaffers sitting on the front stoop of the house we were passing smiled at us. Essie waved merrily at them as we walked by, and their smiles deepened at the sight of two happy young hobbit-lasses.  
  
As the gaffers faded from view, I said impatiently, "Come now, let's talk about something else. I could care less about silly old Will Bolger." I looked around. It was a little bit after noontime, and the sun had lit up the fields around us in bright colors. "Let's take a short-cut across the grass. I want to get father's letter to the post office as fast as I can!" Without waiting for an answer, I took off across the field as fast as I could. I heard Essie shout in surprise, then begin laughing as she took off after me.  
  
We raced across the meadow as fast as we could. As we neared the road, we came across a hobbit-hole. Laughing mischievously, I ran up to the roof of the hole and turned a cartwheel. Essie and I jumped around on the hill for a bit, until the owner of the hole came out and shouted for us to get off of their house. We rolled down the hill and finally reached the road, feeling quite out of breath and looking a mess. I reached into my pocket and pulled out Father's letter; it was a bit crumpled, but otherwise none the worse for the wear.  
  
Looking around, I noticed some girls from school sitting on a front lawn a few yards away, playing with dolls. I recognized one of them as Margaret Hornblower, a lass from school I had never gotten along with. She had a mean-spirited sense of humor, and never missed a chance to make another hobbit feel stupid. Seeing her, I tried my best to flatten my curls and brush off my dress. Essie did likewise.  
  
"Come on, Elanor," Essie said. "Let's walk by them and act very important. After all, we are on an important mission, while they are playing with dolls." She sniffed, trying her best to look haughty. The expression did not suit her sweet features, and I laughed at her. I did agree to do as she said, however, and we began to walk down the lane, putting our noses as high into the air as they could go. I made sure that the letter I was carrying was in plain sight as we passed them.  
  
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Margaret look at us and make a face. Putting down her doll, she nodded toward Essie and myself and said loudly to the other girls, "Look at that Elanor Gamgee. She thinks she is better than the rest of us, just because her gaffer is the mayor." The other lasses snickered appreciatively. I gave them no reply, except to put my nose further into the air. My lack of response did not go unnoticed by Margaret, and she raised her voice. "Her father only got to be the mayor because he is friends with the Thain. He is really just a stupid, fat hobbit."  
  
I whirled around, suddenly seeing red. "Don't say such things about my father!" I cried starting towards Margaret.  
  
Essie grabbed my arm. "Please, Elanor, ignore her. Don't fight with her." I roughly shook off her hand and she fell back, watching me nervously.  
  
Margaret smirked at me, standing up and brushing off her skirts primly. "It is only the truth, Elanor."  
  
"You take it back!"  
  
"I will not." Another smirk.  
  
This was all too much for me, and I launched myself at her. She let out a shriek. What followed was not much of a proper fight. I only got a few good punches in, but then she did not get any. She only flailed her hands around and cried out for her friends to help her. Essie stood off to one side, yelling for me to stop before I got into trouble.  
  
Her warnings did me no good. In a few moments the hobbits in the nearby holes had pulled us apart. I immediately felt ashamed of myself, and the many reprimands I received for my actions were not necessary. When told to return home, I replied meekly that I had to deliver a letter to the post office. One of the hobbits took the letter from me, promising that he would deliver it for me.  
  
I walked home, feeling extremely downhearted as I waved goodbye to Essie as we passed her house. I was left to face my father alone.  
  
Thankfully, he was more disappointed with me than he was angry. He looked down at me with solemn eyes, and asked me why I had fought with another hobbit-lass.  
  
"Because she said mean things about you, Sam-dad!" I cried, remembering what Margaret had said. "I could not let her say that!"  
  
My father sighed, and seemed very sad. "I don't want you fighting with other children, Ellie, not even for me. Do you understand?" He held me gently by the shoulders.  
  
I frowned, not understanding. "But. if someone says something bad about you."  
  
"No, Elanor. You shouldn't fight because someone does something mean. So long as she's not hurting anyone, you mustn't take her bait. When you do, you're stooping to her level." He raised his eyebrows, and his normally cheerful round face was full of seriousness. I nodded, although I was not sure I completely understood what he was saying. It made more sense, in my mind, to teach anyone who insulted my father a lesson. But I knew my father knew much more than I did, and I did not want to disappoint him further. In any case, this conversation only proved to me that Margaret was very, very wrong in saying that my father was stupid. He was by far the smartest hobbit I knew.  
  
Another Disclaimer: I don't own the "stupid, fat hobbit" line either. That belongs to Peter Jackson, Fran Walsh, Phillipa Boyens, and Stephen Sinclair (whoever the heck he is). I just couldn't resist putting it in. *grins* 


	3. Discovery

Author's note: Thank you, my wonderful- yet sadly few- reviewers! You are awesome, cause you read my story! And then you took the time to review it! *huggles them* Hehe. Here, I'll give a free Bill the Pony sticker to the next person who reviews! *grins* Buahaa.  
  
Dark wraith: Thanks for the advice. I probably should listen to you and edit the beginning, but I'm lazy. Heh. Besides, I'm planning for her memories to build op an idea of her relationship with her father, so they're important as well. However, I think I'll wait a bit before I write the next memory.  
  
Arayuldaiel: Thanks. One of the reasons I decided to write about Elanor is because of the limited amount of stuff there is on her.  
  
Ugh. I know, I'm really slow in updating. Weekdays are very busy for me, so weekends are generally my only writing time. I'll have more time in a month or so, once swimming ends. Until then, be patient with me.  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Does that work for you? ;-)  
  
  
  
I was jolted out of my half-sleep by a shout of surprise. I quickly sat up, surprised at the darkness that filled the cart. I had slept through the day. Glancing up, I saw Mr. Pippin looking in at me with a mixture of amusement and dismay.  
  
"Merry!" he called to the front of the cart. "Merry, I think you should come look at what I found in among the ale jugs!" He looked back at me, and I tried to win him over with a smile. It did not seem to work, for he frowned at me, but I thought I detected a hint of laughter in his eyes.  
  
A curly head popped around the edge of the wagon. "Elanor." Mr. Merry groaned, running his fingers through his hair. "What in Middle-Earth are you doing here?"  
  
I slid out of the back of the cart and stood up straight in the clearing they had stopped the wagon in. They were much taller than I, and I found myself wishing I were back in the cart so that I could have the extra height. "I heard you talking last night, with Father. I want to go to Gondor and Rohan with you, and see all the places in between as well."  
  
Mr. Merry sighed and sat down on the edge of the cart, looking distressed. "Elanor, you should not have snuck off like this. What will your father think?"  
  
"I left him a note," I offered. I could see that he did think this was an appropriate manner of informing my father where I was.  
  
"Yes, I saw your note, although I assume you left a more. Iinformative/I one as well. You thought deceit was the best way to go about doing this?"  
  
I bit my lip and did not respond. I had been feeling rather guilty that I had lied to Father and Mother. Mr. Pippin seemed to pick up on this.  
  
"Oh, come now, Merry," he said, smiling cheerily. "Don't make her feel too bad. What is so wrong about her coming with us? We could send Sam a note at Bree to let him know that she is safe." I grinned up at him thankfully.  
  
Mr. Merry raised his eyebrows at Mr. Pippin and shook his head. "It would take days for the note to reach Sam. He would be out of his mind with worry by then. Besides, it is too dangerous- though, I suppose, the lands have gotten safer in the past few years." He turned to me. "Elanor, you have been to Gondor once before. Why are you so set on going with us?"  
  
I shrugged. "We did not travel to all of the places in the stories. Father wanted to take the route that was easiest for Mother and I. We did not pass through the Forest of Lothlorien, and I very much wanted to see my flower." I paused. "Besides, last time was with Mother and Father, which was not as much fun as traveling with you."  
  
"Oh really?" Mr. Pippin said, straightening and crossing his arms. "And what makes you think we are so much fun to travel with?" Though both Mr. Pippin and Mr. Merry can be very imposing when standing at their full heights, I saw Mr. Pippin's mouth twitch into a smile, and I grinned. He noticed this, and continued. "I know for a fact that Merry can become quite disagreeable when traveling for a few hours, and he smells terribly after a few days without a bath."  
  
Mr. Merry's looked at his cousin, eyes twinkling in amusement. "I am only disagreeable because of your endless whining, Pippin. And would you like me to share the story of the time you drank a whole jug of ale while on watch? The results, if I recall, were not pretty."  
  
"No, no, no need to relate that tale," Mr. Pippin said hurriedly. "Perhaps another time."  
  
Mr. Merry laughed, but turned somber as I joined in. My laughter died as he looked at me with solemn eyes. "Elanor, you cannot come with us. Your father will be horribly worried about you, and with good reason. The wilds of Middle-Earth are not proper stomping grounds for a pretty young hobbit- lass such as yourself." I winced at the use of the word 'pretty'. "I am afraid we will have to turn around straight away and bring you home." He turned away to close the cart, and I heard him mutter, "Two days of traveling wasted."  
  
"I could go myself," I said quickly, realizing with disappointment that there was no way of convincing him to let me stay with them. Mr. Merry looked at me out of the corner of his eye, eyebrows raised.  
  
"No, I think not. The Old Forest is dangerous, even if you stick to the road. I will not let you go on your own. Pippin and I will go with you." I sighed unhappily and sat upon the ground, feeling extremely put out. So much for my adventure; I had barely even gotten past the borders of the Shire.  
  
My two companions began to walk around, gathering the few things they had taken out of their packs as we prepared to turn around. I noticed Mr. Pippin giving me sympathetic looks out of the corner of his eye, but he didn't say anything. I wished he would, for I was certain he could change Mr. Merry's mind if he wanted to. But both of them remained silent as they cleaned up. As Mr. Merry walked across the camp to fetch his pipe, Mr. Pippin picked me up and placed me on the seat at the front of the wagon. Dejectedly, I drew my knees up and rested my chin on them. Mr. Pippin looked at me for a moment, then turned to lean against the cart, crossing his legs idly as he waited for his cousin.  
  
As Mr. Merry walked up and swung his pack onto the wagon, Mr. Pippin put his hand on his arm. "Do you hear something?" he asked quietly, glancing around at the trees surrounding us.  
  
Mr. Merry turned to do the same, and I lowered my feet to the floor of the cart and raised my head. Around us the woods were fairly still. A light breeze rustled the treetops, and a small bird flew lazily across the clearing in search of a place to spend the night. I was beginning to think Mr. Pippin had been hearing things when I heard it: The sounds of bushes rustling every few seconds, accompanied by a dull thud.  
  
Mr. Merry put his hand to his hip, and I saw his sword hanging there. Mr. Pippin glanced at him. "It could be nothing," Mr. Merry said, his eyes scanning the darkness around the trees. "But in the Old Forest, especially at night, I would rather not take any chances." Mr. Pippin nodded, and his hand moved to his sword hilt as well.  
  
"Elanor, you stay where you are." For once, I decided not to argue with Mr. Merry. The sounds were growing closer, and the faces of the older hobbits were grim. I moved my hand to grab the side of the cart, and I noticed it was shaking. Feeling ashamed of my fear, I held the cart tightly to as to stop my shivering.  
  
By this time, the sounds were quite loud, and any suspicion that we might have had about it being nothing had all but vanished. The thuds were heavy, and I shuddered to think how big a creature would have to be in order to make such noises.  
  
Without saying anything, Mr. Pippin pointed to the trees on the left of us. I followed his gaze. A shadow had appeared, and was growing larger as it approached us. The first thing that crossed my mind when I saw the shadow was, I Troll! /I As soon as I thought it, I realized how silly a thought it was. There were no trolls left near the Shire, or anywhere, for that matter. The King Elessar had worked hard to ensure-  
  
A enormous trolls stepped through the trees, sniffing at the air. I was struck with fear, and shrunk back into my seat, making myself as small as possible. Still sniffing, the troll turned out way, and in the darkness I could almost make out a smile on its face. A smile that clearly said, "Ah, dinner!"  
  
With a swift glance at each other, Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin charged forward, drawing their swords as they went. The troll growled, unhappy with the way its dinner was behaving. It swiped a large hand at them, narrowly missing them both. It snarled as Mr. Merry's sword pierced its knee, followed closely by Mr. Pippin's as it struck the creature's side.  
  
I watched in terror as it flung them, one by one, away from it. Growling angrily, the troll started toward Mr. Merry, who lay against a tree. His head had struck the trunk rather hard, and he seemed to be stunned. I was about to cry out to him when something flew at the troll, distracting it from its target. It was Mr. Pippin, and he was stabbing the creature fiercely as he gave his cousin time to get to his feet. Mr. Pippin ran to the front of the troll to assist Mr. Merry in regaining his balance. Troll and hobbits paused, looking at each other. Then the troll brought his hand up to swipe at them again. Immediately, the two hobbits ran around the troll to the side closest to me.  
  
I sat in my seat, gripping the cart tightly, racked with terror. I saw Mr. Merry stumble briefly, and Mr. Pippin caught his arm. But Mr. Pippin was tired from the fight. Neither was in a position to continue the skirmish. I could not let them do this alone. Summoning up any shred of courage I could find-there did not seem to be much of it-I scrambled down from the cart, ready to help in any way I could.  
  
Mr. Pippin saw me move, and turned as the troll came towards them again. "No, Elanor!" he shouted. "Run! Get out of here! Run home!"  
  
I stood where I was, unwilling to leave them to fight the monster alone. Mr. Merry turned his head.  
  
"Do as he says, Elanor! Run home! We will be all right!" He turned, and both hobbits struck at the troll with their swords once again.  
  
Feeling like a horrible coward, I turned tail and fled into the trees. 


End file.
